If I Should Die Before I Wake (7 page)

“E
verybody’s asking for you at the hospital,
Deanne,” Dr. Vandervoort said
to his daughter as she sat hunched over her
school books. She sat at the breakfast bar in
their sunny kitchen.

Deanne looked up at his face, then glanced quickly away. “I’ve been very busy with my new classes and all,” she shrugged.

“Too busy to stop by and say hello to everybody?”

“I’ll go back sometime,” she said quietly.

“You know, Pat Jacobson has a pile of VolunTeen service awards and certificates waiting for you in her office.” He paused. “It’s been a month, Deanne. You should start to think about the future.”

“Five weeks and three days,” Deanne said, closing her geometry book with a snap. “I can’t go back. I hate that hospital. I never want to go inside it again!”

Dr. Vandervoort tried a different tack. “That girl, Pam Miller. She stopped by my office yesterday to say good-bye.” Deanne looked at him sharply. “She went home. She’s in complete remission.”

“I’m glad,” Deanne said.

“Kids with cancer
do
get well, Deanne. She stopped by because she missed seeing you. She wanted me to know what a good friend you’ve been to her. She wanted to tell you goodbye herself.”

“Dad, please!” Deanne cried, standing up while gathering her books. “I don’t want to go back to the hospital.”

As she started out the door toward her bedroom, he asked, “What shall I tell Mrs. Jacobson about your awards?”

“You could bring them home to me,” Deanne said hopefully.

“No,” he said simply. “I can’t. If you want them, you’ll have to pick them up yourself.”

“Then I don’t want them,” she said stubbornly. And she ran up the spiral staircase.

* * * * *

“Want some company?” Deanne heard Susan’s familiar voice.

“Sure,” Deanne said, pushing her lunch tray aside. “You don’t normally have this lunch period. Why today?”

Susan sighed. “I was helping Mrs. Wilson on a literature project, so I’m eating late today. So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you much since school’s started.”

“Okay,” Deanne said. “Classes are boring and I still can’t stand the country club scene. I’m not doing much of anything.”

“We miss you at the hospital,” said Susan.

Deanne felt her defenses go up. “Mom’s got me signed up for tennis lessons every Saturday morning . . . ,” she started.

“But you hate tennis,” Susan said.

“It beats sitting around,” said Deanne.

“You could come in on Saturdays. A few of us summer VolunTeens are working Saturdays and after school—”

“I don’t want to,” Deanne cut her off. “It was a fun thing to do this summer, but it was beginning to bore me.”

Susan was silent for a minute. “Even Mrs. Sanders, the dragon lady, asked about you.”

Deanne tried to look bored and uninterested. “She asked, ‘Miss Pyle, whatever happened to Miss Vandervoort? Is she ill?’ I said, ‘No, Mrs. Sanders. She’s too busy since school started.’ And she said, ‘Funny, she didn’t seem like a quitter.’”

Deanne’s cheeks flushed hotly. “I’m not!” she cried. “Why can’t everybody just leave me alone? I worked at the hospital for one whole summer. It was fun, but it’s over. I don’t ever want to go back there again!”

Then she picked up her tray and left the cafeteria.

* * * * *

Deanne lobbed the tennis ball absently against the net. It bounced back at her and she caught it. Already, the October mornings were chilly. The smell of autumn was in the air.

“Hey, Deanne. Need a partner?” She turned to face Judson Cortland. He was as blond and good-looking as ever.

“I was just thinking of giving up,” she told him.

“Don’t do that,” he smiled. His teeth were white and even, his face still tanned. “Come on, let’s hit a few,” he urged. “Then, maybe, we can go get a soft drink.”

“I’m supposed to meet Mom back at the Clubhouse,” she explained.

“So? I’d still like to buy you a soft drink.”

She paused and looked hard at him. “You don’t have to be nice to me, Judson. Our mothers aren’t around.”

He cocked his head to one side and said, “Hey! No one’s making me do anything. It’s just that . . . well . . . I don’t know. You’ve changed a lot over the summer.”

She felt herself blushing. “How?” she asked. She enjoyed watching him squirm and grope for words.

“I don’t know. . . you’re just . . . different,” he said shyly.

“I don’t feel different,” she said.

“Well, you are. Did something special happen this summer?” he asked.

“I did a lot of volunteer work at the hospital . . .” her voice trailed off. “Look, I gotta go. Mom will be waiting.”

“But, what about our game?” he asked. “And how about the pop?”

She called over her shoulder, “Thanks. Some other time.” As she walked away she said to herself, Judson Cortland asked me out, unprompted by either of our mothers!

Six months before, it would have been the biggest moment of her life. Now, she couldn’t have cared less.

* * * * *

The phone rang. It shattered the silence in the Vandervoort family room. Dr. Vandervoort answered it. He spoke quickly, then hung up.

“That was the hospital,” he told Sylvia and Deanne. “One of my patients isn’t doing well. I’m going to have to go in and examine him.”

Mrs. Vandervoort put her needlepoint down. “Of course, dear,” she smiled.

Deanne felt her pulse begin to race. She had an idea. “Dad,” she started, “let me go with you. I want to get some of my things. This would be a perfect time.”

“Oh, Hans,” Mrs. Vandervoort interrupted. “It’s already ten o’clock. You could be there for hours. Deanne, you can go anytime after school. Why now?”

“Please, Dad,” Deanne said urgently. A special look passed between them.

“All right,” he said. “But hurry up. I have to get going.”

“I will,” she called, running from the room to get her jacket and comb her hair.

They drove quickly to the hospital. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he told her when they pulled into the parking lot.

“It’s okay,” she began. “I’m just going to clean out my locker. Then I’ll go up to your office and wait. I can sleep on your couch.”

“Like old times,” he said.

“Almost,” she said as they walked into the hospital together.

* * * * *

She didn’t intend to go up to the Oncology floor. But, before she even realized it, she was there. The halls smelled of disinfectant and medication. They smelled familiar and sad.

“I won’t go to his room!” she told herself firmly.

But, she was drawn there automatically. She passed the nurses’ station. There wasn’t anyone on duty that she knew.

She stood for a long time in front of room 438. Everything came back to her in a flood of memories. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her pain was real. Deanne sniffled and turned to go, when she heard the small, muffled crying of a child.

It was coming from behind that door, the one that she couldn’t bare to touch. Slowly, Deanne reached out and pushed on the handle. It swung open easily.

A small form lay heaped in the one bed Deanne couldn’t stand to look at. The night light glowed in the darkness. But, Deanne had to get closer in order to make out the huddled shape of a little girl.

“Hello,” Deanne said. “Are you crying?”

“Who are you?” the girl asked. “Are you a nurse?”

“No,” Deanne said. Before she could say anything else, the girl asked, “Are you an angel?”

“Oh, no,” Deanne smiled. “I was walking down the hall and I heard you crying. What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared,” she said in her small voice.

“Why? Did you have a bad dream?”

“It’s dark,” said the child. “I’m scared in the dark. My mommy couldn’t stay with me. I want to go home.”

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Deanne asked kindly.

“They’re too busy. I’m a big girl. I’m almost six. I’m not supposed to be scared.”

Deanne felt a lump rise in her throat. She should turn and run away. She shouldn’t stay. It was too painful for her.

She cleared her throat. “You know,” she whispered. “I had a friend once . . . and he told me when someone holds your hand it’s easy to fall asleep. You won’t ever be afraid as long as someone holds on.”

“Where’s your friend now?” the little girl asked.

“He, he had to go away.”

“Will he come back?”

“No,” Deanne murmured softly. Then she added, “But he’s happy now.” Deanne brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Why don’t I pull up this chair and sit right next to your bed and hold your hand until you fall asleep?”

“Would you?” The child sounded relieved. “You won’t leave?”

“Not until you’re sound asleep. I promise,” Deanne said.

The girl grasped Deanne’s hand firmly and settled back on her pillow. Deanne held on tightly and leaned back in the chair. She knew the girl was asleep in a few minutes.

Her eyes swept around the familiar room.

Everything was just as she remembered it. Except . . . except . . . “Good-bye, Matt.” Deanne whispered into the darkness.

The familiar sounds of the hospital settled in around her. The child’s fingers slowly relaxed as she fell into a deep sleep. Deanne heard the child’s rhythmic breathing. But Deanne didn’t let go of her hand. For the first time in weeks she felt peaceful and content. She felt hopeful.

And she knew that she’d come home.

To become a hospital volunteer during the summer, after school and/or on weekends, call the Volunteer Program Director at your local hospital.

To become a hospital volunteer during the
summer, after school and/or on weekends,
call the Volunteer Program Director at your
local hospital.

Lurlene McDaniel lives in Chattanooga,
Tennessee, and is a favorite author of young
people all over the country. Her best-selling
books about kids overcoming problems
such as cancer, diabetes, and the death of a
parent or sibling draw a wide response from
her readers. Lurlene says that the best compliment
she can receive is having a reader
tell her, “Your story was so interesting that
I couldn’t put it down!” To Lurlene, the most
important thing is writing an uplifting story
that helps the reader to look at life from a
different perspective.

Six Months to Live
, the first of the bestselling
books about Dawn Rochelle and her
courageous fight against cancer, was placed
in a time capsule at the Library of Congress
in Washington, D.C. The capsule is scheduled
to be opened in the year 2089.